Flashman and the Emperor

by Robert Brightwell

  A few minutes later and I was back in the yard where Joshua had gathered the bodies of the marines in a neat row, while their killers had been heaped in a pile. I gazed on my dead men and felt a cold anger build in me. I might not be one to go searching for trouble, but if I can dish revenge on someone who has served me ill at little risk to myself, then they had better watch their backs. As I looked down on the bodies, I remembered Delgardo’s arrogance at our first encounter. I could not remember when I had wanted to ‘mark someone’s dance card’ more. He would struggle to do a quadrille after I had finished with him. I glanced at the pile of bodies next to my men and turned to my new sergeant.

  “Put those other bodies in a line too,” I ordered. Instead of obeying, Joshua whirled around to face me, his eyes flashing with anger.

  “Are you going to let them get away with this, just because the people they killed were black?” he blazed.

  “Of course not, you fool,” I shouted, conscious that several other marines were listening. “No one kills my men with impunity and they tried to kill the admiral too.” I lowered my voice so that only the big marine could hear. “My friend might be a principled man, but I am not. So lay out those bodies and then send a marine down the street to bring Señor Salazar here.” My new sergeant gave me a glare that was heavy with suspicion, but he did as I had bidden. A short while later Salazar was escorted through the gates.

  “We heard some shooting,” he admitted when he saw the bodies. “But we have learned the hard way not to interfere.”

  “Come and examine these bodies,” I invited, pointing to the new line of men who had broken into the residence. “Do you recognise any of these as Delgardo’s people?”

  Joshua had come to stand alongside me and listened as Salazar confirmed that at least six of the corpses were men who he knew worked for Delgardo. The big marine nodded in satisfaction and declared, “So now we kill him.”

  “That is impossible,” insisted Salazar, alarmed. “By now he will know he has failed and he will be in his quarter of the town. It is almost entirely filled with his supporters or those that fear him. He will be long gone by the time you reach his house – that is if you get that far. His men know the back streets and rooftops like the backs of their hands. They will fight you all the way. You will need a hundred, possibly two hundred to stand a chance of making it through.”

  “In that case, we will need to think of a way to draw him to us,” I mused. “It’s either that or Cochrane’s plan to bring him to court and a jury of his fellow citizens.”

  Salazar laughed out loud. “He is not a fool; nothing will get him out of his quarter now. He would not attend a court and even if he did no jury would convict him. They know it would be their death warrant if they did and his friends would break him out of jail. Even the Portuguese did not dare arrest him.” Salazar shook his head in resignation. “Believe me, gentlemen, I would like nothing more than to see him killed for what he did to my daughter. His family and mine have been rivals in this city for generations, but I can think of nothing that would bring him to you.” He turned to go and had taken two paces before he stopped. “Wait, though,” he called, turning back. “There is something that might work. But we would have to wait a week or two until his guard is down.”

  Chapter 35

  The next two weeks was a period of great frustration. If it was bad for me, it was even worse for the marines, who were left seething as events turned against them. At least Joshua knew that a plan was in the offing. I guessed that he used that to placate the others, as their tolerance was pushed beyond all endurance.

  Delgardo had brazenly written to Cochrane to deny any knowledge of the assassination attempt, while pressing again his case to be on the governing council. Several other leading citizens of the town had also added their support. Thus when the council was formed, Cochrane had little alternative but to include the man he was almost certain had tried to kill him. To add insult to injury, Delgardo then demanded written guarantees of safe conduct before he would attend the meeting. Even then he brought a fifty-strong band of men with him. I drew the line at guarding the treacherous snake in the council chamber and Cochrane did not insist on it. He knew tempers were running high and probably suspected that one of the marines would have shot the villain given the chance. A group of armed sailors were tasked with the job instead.

  The first council meeting appeared to go well, with most of Cochrane’s proposals agreed, but instead of being pleased he just seemed depressed. “They are not really interested in proper governance,” he admitted. “They are just waiting for me to sail away and then they will do what they want.” It was quickly becoming apparent that at least half of the council were either related to Delgardo or in some other way linked to his clan. Salazar himself had refused to stand, the reason for which became apparent two days after the first meeting. One of the few council members not in Delgardo’s pocket was found dead in the streets. Later that same day Cochrane received a recommendation for his replacement signed by over half the council, who was no doubt another Delgardo man.

  Cochrane fumed at the abuse of power and talked of holding a citywide election to replace the council members, as though that would make a difference. I, on the other hand, was growing increasingly relaxed about proceedings, for Delgardo was growing in confidence. His bodyguard had shrunk to just ten men and he was now regularly seen strutting around the centre of town as though he owned it. He probably thought he had only to wait until Cochrane sailed and then he would. He had already drawn promissory notes from the bank to purchase many of the prize cargos and some of the ships. He was building his wealth and position to be unassailable, or so he thought. But he was still just flesh and bone and he had weaknesses that we could exploit.

  We could not just kill him in the street, tempting though it was. That would have started a virtual war between Delgardo’s faction and the crew of the Emperor. Instead we had to arrange for him to quietly ‘disappear’. I had to admit that Salazar’s plan had a certain poetry to it, in that it allowed his dead daughter to play a part in avenging her own death. On top of that, the only person who could reveal our involvement could not do so without betraying themselves.

  It all hinged on greed and power. The Salazars had once been the top family in São Luis. According to the head of their clan, Delgardo wanted nothing more than to humiliate and impoverish his rivals so that they could never rise to prominence again. Salazar was sure that if we offered him the chance to do this, he would not be able to resist. His idea to get Delgardo on his own, or at least with as few supporters as possible, was nothing short of genius.

  When he had first explained the scheme, I had doubts as to whether it would work. But a night spent crawling around the crypt of an old church convinced me that it had potential. It was where Salazar’s daughter had been buried. The church’s priest was the one who had given Salazar the idea. The funeral had taken place the day after she had been killed, when the citizens of São Luis had been expecting an imperial army to rampage through the city and many had been hiding their valuables. The priest had asked Salazar whether he was taking the opportunity to hide his gold in the family tomb. At the time Salazar had been disgusted at the thought; he certainly did not trust the priest, who he knew was close to Delgardo. But now that chance remark gave us an opportunity to bring our enemy to a place of our choosing.

  “Are you sure he will come in person?” I had asked Salazar.

  “I think he will find the prospect of seeing my face as he takes away my family’s wealth irresistible,” the Brazilian admitted grimly. “He won’t want to kill me. No, he will find it far more enjoyable watching us slide into poverty.”

  So it was that three days after my first nocturnal visit to the church, I came again, this time with Salazar and Joshua for company. It was early evening; we had timed our arrival to coincide with when the priest normally left for the day. This time, though, it was essential that he see us. Not that we were in our normal attire. I had d
eliberately not shaved since my first visit and was wearing the rough clothes of a craftsman while Joshua was dressed as a slave. Between us we carried a heavy bag of tools. There were hammers, chisels and crowbars visible at the top of our burden, but hidden beneath were cutlasses and several muskets cut down to the length of a cavalry carbine.

  As soon as he saw the cleric, Salazar waved at us to stop and went on to talk to him alone. Even from a distance I could tell it was a masterful performance, as my new friend wrung his hands together and pleaded for forgiveness. I knew he was explaining to the priest that the man had been right all along. He had hidden his treasure in his family tomb during his daughter’s burial. I watched as he gestured to us, telling the priest that we were stonemasons, who would help open and reseal the tomb.

  Few men need much convincing if they have already guessed the outcome. The priest could barely hide his delight. After admonishing Salazar for not trusting him, he invited his visitors to stay as long as they wanted in the crypt. Then giving me the most fleeting of glances as he went past, he left the church. Instead of springing into action, we sat together near the back of the building and waited; there was still a chance that the priest was an honest man.

  The advantage of having black soldiers in a city half full of slaves is that they can loiter anywhere in civilian clothes and barely be noticed. If my marines were seen in uniform near the church suspicions would be raised, but I doubt the priest even registered the half dozen men sitting around the little square in front of the building. He would certainly not have seen the further six men and a cart that were waiting in the street behind the church. We did not have to wait long before there was a discreet knock at the door. One of my marines pushed it open and announced quietly that the priest had rushed in the direction of Delgardo’s quarter of the city.

  It was an old church. Salazar told me that the building of it had begun when the Dutch had occupied the region. There was a huge gold screen at one end, behind the altar. You had to go through a small door in the screen to find the trapdoor that led down to the crypt. In the same passageway was a door that opened to the street behind, and more of our waiting men. A few minutes later and we were down in the crypt to await our visitors. Despite the light from a dozen candles, it was a dank and sinister place. Judging from the stains on the walls it flooded regularly and there was six inches of water covering the floor. The family tombs were raised from the ground on stone plinths, while at the back was a pile of rotting coffins. Salazar explained that these were mostly older relatives removed from the family tombs to make room for more recent arrivals. Bones and skulls could be seen between the broken wooden planks. Being surrounded by death did not make me feel comfortable, but it would be a terrible place to be trapped if Delgardo brought more men than we expected. We had precautions in place, however, to warn us if that happened and we could always escape out of the back door if necessary.

  I am normally the first to twitch at any sign of danger, but that night I burned to avenge my men and the attempt on my friend’s life. I knew that if we did not succeed, Delgardo was bound to try to kill Cochrane again. The admiral, hamstrung by his principles from attacking first, might not be as lucky a second time. I grinned in the darkness remembering how keen Mallee had been to join our band tonight. But he had poultices tied to his shoulder to prevent gangrene and the surgeon would not hear of him splashing around in a water-filled crypt. Joshua had promised to give him a full account of the proceedings. I just hoped that Delgardo would take the bait and not keep us waiting long.

  We had been chatting quietly for half an hour when there was a whisper through the trapdoor: “He is here.” I jumped down from the tomb I had been sitting on to keep my feet out of the water and picked up my hammer. A moment later the sound of a chisel hitting stone was ringing around the church while I crouched near the corner of the Salazar tomb with my Collier pistol primed and ready but out of sight, just inches from my hand. Joshua held a lantern over my shoulder, but his other hand rested on the top of our bag full of weapons. Two marines now scurried down the steps and one whispered, “He is bringing two men towards the crypt, there are more in the church.”

  I knew they had come through the back door of the church, where more men had waited in case their assistance was necessary. They quickly went to stand on either side of the steps, positioning themselves behind anyone coming down the stone slabs. “We need to kill them quietly,” I reminded the group. “He will have more men outside and if they hear shots, we might have to fight our way out.” The two soldiers nodded but grinned happily at the thought of avenging their fallen comrades. I watched as they both slotted bayonets on the end of their muskets.

  “I think we need some decoration for these,” added Salazar. He put his hand in his pocket and then scattered several gold coins beside three large sacks of pebbles that sat on top of the family tomb. The shiny metal glinted in the candlelight and drew the eye to what appeared to be three sacks of bullion. All seemed set for our visitor as I bent again over my chisel and the crack of my hammer rang around the crypt, echoing into the church above.

  I kept my head down as I heard the footsteps approach the trapdoor to the crypt. There was a scraping noise as Delgardo began to descend the stairs. Salazar did an excellent job of feigning surprise. His boots splashed in the standing water about me as he whirled around to stare in astonishment at the intruder. Then he drew back a step as he took in the two guards also descending on either side of our visitor.

  “Ah, Señor Salazar,” called a familiar voice and I risked a glance up. The governor-in-waiting stepped gingerly from the steps onto the water-covered floor as his men followed him down into the crypt. All three had pistols in their hands.

  “Delgardo, you villain!” gasped Salazar and to my mind he was now overdoing the acting. He staggered back, stricken, as if he was about to swoon. It did not matter, though, as our visitor’s attention was transfixed by the gold glinting by the sacks. Joshua stepped respectfully back as a slave might, not wanting to be involved in the affairs of his betters. I was pleased that the light of the lantern went with him, leaving me in more shadow.

  Delgardo reached out and picked up one of the loose coins, grinning in delight. “On behalf of the council,” he announced, “I have decided to institute a special tax on money buried with the dead.” His fingers patted the nearest sack and for a brief second his look of pleasure was replaced with puzzlement. He must have felt the round pebbles and not heard the clink of coins he expected.

  “Now!” I whispered hoarsely. There was a sudden flurry of activity. The two men behind Delgardo did not stand a chance. Seventeen-inch bayonets were plunged into their backs and through their chests before they even knew their assailants were standing behind them. Joshua too moved with lightning speed and with a sweep of his boot, Delgardo’s legs were taken from under him.

  As the villain fell forward he gave a gasp of surprise and as he looked up his eyes locked with mine. “You,” he gasped as recognition crossed his features. Then he started to take a breath to shout for help, but it was too late. Joshua was immediately on top of him, a knee between his shoulder blades and a huge black hand on either side of his head, pushing his face under the water.

  There was a splash and a gurgle as Delgardo went under. He twisted and writhed in panic and at one point his face emerged, his eyes wide in terror, a hoarse rasp coming from his throat. But his respite was all too brief as with another grunt of exertion Joshua forced his features under the water once more.

  “Wait,” called Salazar, pulling on Joshua’s shoulder. “I want to tell him that he is dying because of my daughter.”

  The big marine just shrugged him away. “It will take too long to name them all,” he grunted, referring to the marines that he was avenging. Delgardo’s arms flailed desperately above his head, but Joshua easily kept his face away from their clawing fingers. “He will be dead soon,” he snarled through clenched teeth. “It does not matter.”

  Salazar s
tepped away, disappointed. I knew how he felt. When you are cashing in someone’s chips, you want them to know the reason why. Indeed, I took a grim satisfaction from knowing he had at least recognised me before he went under. But the marine was right, it did not really matter. What did, was getting away with our crime.

  One of the soldiers was using his boot to force his victim off the end of his musket while the other marine gave his man another stab for good measure. “Take them upstairs and put them on the cart in the alley,” I whispered. Still grinning they bent down and picked up one body between them, carrying it away like a long, limp sack. Delgardo’s futile splashing was diminishing, but we needed more time and so I picked up my hammer and chisel again. As another crack against the stonework rang out, I hoped it would reassure those waiting in the church above that there was no cause for alarm.

  With a final gurgling burst of air from his lungs, Delgardo stopped moving, but Joshua kept his face underwater for three more strikes of the chisel before he finally released his grip. By then the two marines had retrieved their second body and Salazar had recovered his coins from the top of the tomb. I put the tools back in our bag and looked about. There were a few candles still burning around the crypt and three bags of pebbles to explain what had happened, but there would be no bodies or anything to incriminate us. Joshua already had Delgardo’s wet corpse over his shoulder as he climbed the steps, while I checked that my Collier was back in my pocket, picked up the bag of tools and other weapons and followed him.

  All we left behind to show we had been there were wet footprints in the passage behind the screen. As I made my way to the back door of the church, the marine we had left on guard in the passage gestured for me to look through a gap in the ornate panel. I peered through a hole in the gilt decoration to see half a dozen of Delgardo’s men standing at the far end of the church. They were busy playing dice against one of the walls, clearly without a care for their master. I went out to the cart and hauled the tool bag in, resting it on some sailcloth that covered the bodies. A moment later we were trundling away down the back alleys of the city, while another of Joshua’s bird calls marked the signal to the marines at the front of the church to melt away.